


closing in

by dorenamryn



Series: obikin week 2017 [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Regrets, they deserved better than this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-04 23:14:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11565360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorenamryn/pseuds/dorenamryn
Summary: It hurt him, and it hurt Vader too, a galaxy away and in denial as he was. They were never destined to have been apart, for the two of them had always come together to make a single, better whole.Or: Anakin and Obi-Wan were already long gone at that point, as their souls had perished together in the lava and amidst the acrid smoke; and all there was left was their shells, empty, remembering fragments of happier times that had long since passed.





	closing in

**Author's Note:**

> I used to see in colour  
> now it's just a wave of grey  
> feel it pull me under  
> drowning in the disarray
> 
> there's no escape
> 
> everything is closing in  
> everything is closing in  
> light is slowly growing dim  
> feels like everything is closing in

He remembered that day, when Obi-Wan had first held him during the war. The memory was pierced with sharp accusatory glances, for Anakin had then just gotten out of another near-death scratch, and “ _no, Obi-Wan, I’m okay_ ,” he’d said.

But Obi-Wan had known him too well, even then, to know that he was terrified. Terrified of dying, terrified of losing everything that he held held dear, so he’d let it go and cradled Anakin’s head against his warm shoulder and let him simply _be_. He’d told him to be careful, too, after that long night of warmth and safety and the burning touch of Obi-Wan’s lips against his and Obi-Wan’s quiet confessions of attachment and “Anakin, I was so _scared_.”

He should have listened while he still had the chance, listened to the words that Obi-Wan was saying, remembered all the words that he had said, but he hadn’t. Anakin had been too scared, for Obi-Wan glowed and so did he and finally, something in the world felt right and he’d never wanted it to end.

And so, when the dreams came and warned him of the end of all things, he’d panicked, made rash decisions without thinking, which was, ironically, one of the things Obi-Wan chastised him the most for doing. He should have listened, should have taken his advice.

Vader had stood stone-still on that balcony, the lava raging below him, hot and dangerous. The smoke burned his lungs as he inhaled, the Force a storm around him, his anger red and blinding in his veins. He’d gone straight to Mustafar from the Chancellor’s office, slaughtered all the Separatist leaders as if they were nothing, as if he didn’t already know the disappointment that would be clearly displayed in Obi-Wan’s eyes when he arrived. And he would arrive. 

Anakin whispered from the the depths of his mind, telling him that this was not the Jedi way, his pain sharp and palpable. Vader shoved him back, ignored the acrid air and the need to rub at his eyes.

He was not a Jedi. He pledged himself to Palpatine because he thought that Obi-Wan was going to die, and then he’d come here and followed Palpatine’s every command like a _fool_. Even so far from Coruscant, he could feel the death at the Temple. Oh, Vader had been so stupid. What if Obi-Wan had been there? Would Palpatine have cared?

But even in that moment on the balcony, his unprecedented anger had made up his mind for him. From then on, he only remembered fragments, a faint hissing of an ice-blue blade, screams of agony that he later realized were his own, a pained voice yelling at him, the familiar presence sharp and stinging in his mind. And then, he had felt like death and everything was burning, and there were three words echoing in his head on repeat.

“I loved you!”

And finally, when he had woken up, he had no clue who he was and knew only that his name was Vader and that he was destined to destroy galaxies because that’s what his master had told him, and Obi-Wan was left as the faint smell of warmth and memories of a time long gone, locked away in his head along with the rest of Anakin’s _baggage_. 

Vader didn’t care. He didn’t care when his mechanical joints ached as if there were a billion sharp pinpricks stabbing him from the inside out, didn’t care when his skin felt like it was on fire, didn’t care when the echo of Anakin screamed in agony somewhere in his mind. He didn’t see the world anymore. He wasn’t Anakin, for Anakin was weak, so instead of the colours that Anakin had seen, all he saw was washed in shades in red and grey, and Anakin was drowned by the darkness that Vader believed he wielded and Obi-Wan Kenobi was but a fragment of his imagination.

And yet, on some nights while he meditated (for he couldn’t sleep anymore, not ever), Obi-Wan Kenobi’s voice would haunt him, and Vader would remember that first night that Obi-Wan had held him tightly in his arms, his voice soft and quiet as he whispered lies of happiness into Anakin’s then-eager ears; and Vader could see now that they had been words of deceit, for Vader was smarter than that Jedi fool, stronger, immune to such things.

He was so oblivious now that he’d forgotten what hope was, for that’s what Obi-Wan had tried so hard to give him and that’s what Anakin had desperately needed. _Hope_. 

And with Anakin, Obi-Wan had lost all hope too. He’d hidden away after their fight on a planet made from liquid flame, ran from the monster Anakin had become. Still, he blamed himself, for unlike Anakin, he remembered everything from that day in perfect clarity, remembered Anakin’s voice as he’d tried to convince him that this was for the best and that he was strong enough to save him.

He’d been wrong, Obi-Wan knew that now; for while he lived, he lived a broken shell of a man. Vader had killed him on that lava bank, he’d killed himself when he swung his lightsaber, landing the final, fatal blow that ended up not being fatal at all, not to Vader, at least. Anakin had ceased being Anakin that day, and with him, so had Obi-Wan. He might have as well cut off his own limbs, and now all he remembered apart from that night were pieces, little bits from here and there; Anakin standing with him and fighting a losing war, Anakin’s blue eyes staring at him from across a hangar bay, his gaze tired, his own hands intertwined in Anakin’s golden curls as they slept side by side.

With every day, the shattered remains of all he had left were disappearing along with his memory of Anakin’s face, and every day he cried for longer because, _Force_ , he didn’t want to forget. And yet, as memories and feelings slipped through his fingers like water, he became a little less, and he couldn’t stop them from vanishing.

It hurt him, and it hurt Vader too, a galaxy away and in denial as he was. They were never destined to have been apart, for the two of them had always come together to make a single, better whole. 

As they suffered, each alone and dying, the Force sighed in mourning. It wasn’t meant to end this way, but it had, and now the both of them were dead.

**Author's Note:**

> a fraction of a memory  
> pieces of a dream long gone  
> i can see it slipping  
> all that's left of me is gone
> 
> \- Ruelle, _Closing In_
> 
> written for Obikin Week Day 4: Lyrics
> 
> final remarks: this was written pretty quickly and late at night so if there are any errors or if it's a lil messy i apologize!! anyway, hope you liked it and leave a comment if you did :)
> 
> vortexoftime.tumblr.com


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